


In Heat

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 00:18:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4458056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The flat at Baker Street is one of the few places that Molly knows of that has air conditioning, and it's broken in the middle of a heat wave. The upside of there being a delay in getting it fixed is Sherlock is spending a lot more time in their part of the flat nearly naked. But even Molly has had enough, eventually, and Sherlock decides to reward her in advance for deciding to call a repairman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Heat

**Author's Note:**

> And I think this'll be the last one of the day (probably). This answers two prompts: the first is one from **imagineyourotp** ( _Imagine it being the hottest week of the year where your OTP lives. The air conditioning is broken, but Person B puts off getting it fixed, much to Person A's annoyance, because they like watching Person A walk around without a shirt._ ) and the other is an anonymous prompt I got sent on Tumblr ( _The heat has made Molly thirsty but as she opens a bottle of water, she accidentally spills it on her white top, showing the new cherry-themed bra she was wearing_ ). I took some liberties with the fact that a lot of homes in England don't have air conditioning by saying Mrs. Hudson had it installed at some point in the past (mostly because I imagine she enjoyed having it in Florida and made it a point to put it in, even though it never got much use).

It was bloody awful, this heat wave. No one in the whole of England was used to temperature like this. She had some relief when she was at St. Bart’s in the morgue, because that was one of the few places she knew of that had installed air conditioning, but in the flat at Baker Street that was not an option. While Mrs. Hudson had been ahead of the times and had it installed, she had not realized that having it fixed when it inevitably mucked up would be a pain in the arse. Every place in the whole of London that had air conditioning seemed to have broken down from being overworked. And the fans, they just weren’t cutting it.

Though…there was _one_ lovely side effect.

She never tired of seeing Sherlock with his top off. Ever. She loved seeing the sleek muscles of his back or the nicely defined muscles of his abdomen. And as he had basically said through John’s blog he was not taking any cases until “this godforsaken and utterly annoying” heat wave ended, that meant he was stuck at the flat. In very little clothing. Occasionally with little beads of sweat dripping down his body, which only looked good, but were usually soon replaced by droplets of water from the shower when he couldn’t stand it any longer. Sometimes she got to join him for those showers, sometimes she simply got to enjoy seeing him completely naked as he lounged around their bedroom in an effort to stay cool, and sometimes she managed to work him into a lather so he had to take another shower to get clean. It was a vicious cycle that she was a glorious beneficiary of.

She could have paid to get the air conditioning fixed at the start of it all. She could have, at the very least, gotten more efficient fans, or gotten more of them. But the excuse to lounge around her bedroom when she was home in nothing more than a sheet and _maybe_ a pair of lace knickers was too strong, especially when she got Sherlock to lounge around in just as little as well. Still, there came a point where even she had to admit she needed a certain level of comfort.

“I’m calling a repairman today,” she said. She’d been sent home early because the fuse had blown at the hospital, leaving it run on the emergency generator, and since she didn’t have any autopsies that needed to be done immediately as most of the deaths were not suspicious they said the less strain put on the generator by running the morgue at full power the better. While she did not relish losing half a day’s pay of being back at Baker Street in the middle of the day, when it was the hottest day of the heat wave so far, it was nice to have more time with Sherlock. His consulting business had picked up again now that the Moriarty situation was taken care of and between private clients and Scotland Yard she saw less of him, even though they continued to live together even though she could have moved out again.

He looked up at her from his position on the bed, a sheet haphazardly covering his midsection. “I could have done it,” he said.

“Then why didn’t you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I may have been enjoying the excuse to see you prance around in knickers and not much else,” he said with a grin.

“Mmm, then great minds think alike,” she said with a smile as she stepped out of her trousers. She’d worn a thin white cotton T-shirt that was only thick enough to hide the pattern on her new bra, but just barely. She moved closer to the bed and picked up the bottle of water she had set on it, unscrewing the top. She took a sip but Sherlock slipped his hand between her legs and began to run his finger along the waistband of her knickers, causing her to spill some of the water on her shirt. “Sherlock!”

He looked up and licked his lips. “Cherry patterned knickers and bra. A new set, I presume?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, glancing down as she saw he could plainly see the pattern of her bra now.

“Then I’ll try my best not to rip these,” he said, sliding a finger inside her knickers and beginning to tease her. He used his other hand to push her legs apart just slightly, widening her stance, and she shut her eyes. He always did make the most remarkable use of his hands and fingers.

“Is this my reward for calling the repairman?” she asked.

“I suppose,” he said. 

“But I haven’t done it yet,” she said.

“Then it’s payment for a future service rendered,” he said, using the hand not currently sliding in and out of her folds to pull her closer to him. She moved towards him as he shifted the position of his hand to slide a finger into her. She moaned softly and he grinned. “You are fond of this reward.”

“I like it better when there’s more,” she said, reaching over to grip the headboard.

“What’s your definition of more at the moment?” he asked, sliding another finger into her.

“Tongue,” she said, biting back another moan as he used his thumb to toy with her clit. “No, wait. Don’t…don’t stop doing that.”

“But eventually, you want more,” he said.

“Yes,” she replied.

“I’m always willing to give you what you want,” he said. “All you have to do is ask.” 

His fingers continued their pleasant teasing and she felt her knees shake slightly. She could orgasm this way but she _did_ want more. “Sherlock…” she said.

He nodded and slowly slipped his fingers out of her before pulling his hand out of her knickers. “Which position would you prefer?”

“Me on my knees,” she said.

“Then strip off your knickers,” he said.

“Shirt and bra too?” she asked, moving her hands to remove the now sodden scrap of cotton.

“Yes,” he said.

She reached for the waistband of her knickers and then brought them down her hips before shimmying out of them. Then she reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head before reaching behind her and quickly undoing her bra. She saw the way Sherlock was staring at her, the unabashed lustfulness in his eyes and it gave her a heady rush. He saw her as a bloody goddess among women, the sexiest of all sexy women, and she in turn saw him as the pinnacle of manhood that he was. After a moment she changed her mind and moved over to him. “I think I still want to be on my knees, but I want you to enjoy things as well,” she said.

He gave her a grin that made her insides tighten, and she moved the sheet aside to see that he was fully erect under it. She marveled at the fact that while he wasn’t obscenely huge or anything he was much larger than any of the other men she had been with, and for a man who had so little practical knowledge when they began being intimate he had picked up quite a bit very quickly. He was certainly the most considerate lover she had ever had, the only one she would trust to try experimenting with. She had found a few things that excited them both she had never considered before because she trusted Sherlock, and it was quite thrilling.

She decided to give him a little taste of what he had given her, and so she climbed onto the bed and nudged his legs apart before settling between them. She knelt in front of him and took his erection in her hands, stroking him and playing with him, teasing him for a moment like he had teased her, before she leaned forward and took him into her mouth. This was not something she had felt comfortable doing with her other partners, but she didn’t mind with Sherlock because he believed turnabout was fair play. She wrapped her tongue around his shaft as she moved her head up and down, applying some suction, and when she felt his hands go for her hair she knew he wasn’t going to force her to take all of him in. He was doing it so he had something to hold onto.

“Molly,” he groaned, his grip tightening slightly. She loved hearing him say her name like that; it was music to hear ears, any time he said her name is reverent tones or half guttural growls while he fucked her. She loved having that over him. Of course, he could get her to moan his name or shout it at the top of her lungs in pleasure so it _did_ go both ways. She sucked and moved, teasing him almost to his breaking point. Finally he pulled on her hair to tell her to stop before he came. “Enough,” he said.

She pulled away from him and then raised herself up before moving forward. She grasped his erection n her hands and positioned it for her to lower herself on, which she did slowly. She knew this wouldn’t last long; Sherlock was on the brink and it would most likely be quick. Of course, she hadn’t orgasmed yet and he _did_ have remarkable self control so he could hold himself in check and tumble into the abyss with her. She supposed she’d have to wait and see.

He moved his hands to her hips to help guide her action as he lifted his hips up to plunge himself into her as far as he could. He was going to go slow until she came, he realized. He was going to let her set the pace. She leaned forward as she moved up again, trying to get to the angle where he hit just the right spot before she lowered herself again. She began to work up a rhythm, starting slow but soon needing to go faster, needing to feel the friction, needing to ride him and have her release. And when it did finally hit, when he drove himself deep inside her and she shattered into a million pieces and he joined her, she moaned his name loudly before he brought her lips to his and kissed her as the waves ebbed.

When it was over she felt sated and boneless, and after a moment shifted so he could pull out of her before curling up on her side, facing him. He ran a hand down her back, which was now covered in a glistening sheen of sweat, and she put her head on his chest. “I think, at some point, we need to make it to the loo,” he said.

“Probably,” she said. “And we need to change the sheets.”

“Yes,” he said with a slight nod. “We should probably clean up before we call the repairman, in case he can come today.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” she agreed. “But after a little nap, maybe?”

“After a nap sounds like a good idea,” he said. “But let’s not put off the repair job much longer, no matter how much we like seeing each other stark naked. Agreed?”

She lifted her head up and kissed him softly. “Agreed,” she said, before setting her head back down on his chest and shutting her eyes. It was still too bloody hot, and they’d be lucky to get a repairman today, but if nothing else, this had definitely been a very lovely way to spend the afternoon.


End file.
